Stephen King - Insomnia

Didn’t that close the books, return him to the Purpose?”] Lachesis, patiently: [Yes, but he is not safe from Ed Deepneau, because Deepneau has no designation in either Random or Purpose.

Of all the people on earth, only Deepneau can harm him before his time comes. If Deepneau fails, the boy will be safe again-he will pass his time quietly until his moment comes and he steps upon the stage to play his brief but crucially important part.] [“One life means so much, then?” Lachesis: [Yes. If the child dies, the Tower of all existence will fall, and the consequences of such a fall are beyond -your comprehension.

And beyond ours, as well.] Ralph stared down at his shoes for a moment. His head seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. There was an irony here, one he was able to grasp easily in spite of his weariness.

Atropos had apparently set Ed in motion by inflaming some sort of Messiah complex which might have been pre-existing… a by-product of his undesignated status, perhaps. What Ed didn’t see-and would never believe if told-was that Atropos and his bosses on the upper levels intended to use him not to save the Messiah but to kill him.

He looked up again into the anxious faces of the two little bald doctors.

[“Okay, I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop Ed, but I’ll give it a shot.

Clotho and Lachesis looked at each other and smiled identical (and very human) broad smiles of relief. Ralph raised a cautioning finger.

[“Wait. You haven’t heard all of it.”] Their smiles faded.

“I want something back from you. One life. I’ll trade the life of your four-year-old boy for-“] Lois didn’t hear the end of that; his voice dropped below the range of audibility for a moment, but when she saw first Clotho and then Lachesis begin shaking their heads, her heart sank.

Lachesis: [I understand your distress, and yes, Atropos can certainly do as he threatens. Yet you must surely comprehend that this one life is hardly as important as-Ralph: [“But I think it is, don’t you see? I think it is. What you two guys need to get through your heads is that to me, both lives are equally-”] She lost him again, but had no problem hearing Clotho; in the depth of his distress he was almost wailing.

[But this is different! This boy’s life is different.] Now she heard Ralph clearly, speaking (if speech was what it was) with a fearless, relentless logic that made Lois think of her father.

[“All lives are different. All of them matter or none matters.

That’s only my short-sighted, Short-Time view, of course, but I guess -you boys are stuck with it, since I’m the one with the hammer.

The bottom line, Is this: I’ll trade you, even-up. The life of yours for the life of loise. All ’You have to do is promise, and the deal’s on.”] Lachesis: [Ralph, please.” Please understand that we really must not!] There was a long moment of silence. When Ralph spoke, his voice was soft but still audible. It was, however, the last completely audible thing Lois heard in their conversation.

[“There’s a world of difference between cannot and must not, wouldn’t you say?”] Clotho said something, but Lois caught only an isolated [trade might possibly bel phrase. Lachesis shook his head violently. Ralph replied and Lachesis answered by making a grim little scissoring gesture with his fingers.

Surprisingly, Ralph replied to this with a laugh and a nod.

Clotho put a hand on his colleague’s arm and spoke to him earnestly before turning back to Ralph.

Lois clenched her hands in her lap, willing them to reach some sort of agreement. Any agreement that would keep Ed Deepneau from killing all those people while they just stood here yattering.

Suddenly the side of the hill was illuminated by brilliant white light. At first Lois thought it came down from the sky, but that was only because myth and religion had taught her to believe the sky was the source of all supernatural emanations. In reality, it seemed to come from everywhere-trees, sky, ground, even from herself, streaming out of her aura like ribbons of fog.

There was a voice, then… or rather a Voice. It spoke only four words, but they echoed in Lois’s head like iron bells.

[IT MAY BE SO.] She saw Clotho, his small face a mask of terror and awe, reach into his back pocket and bring out his scissors. He fumbled and almost dropped them, a nervous blunder that made Lois feel real kinship for him. Then he was holding them up with one handle in each hand and the blades open.

Those four words came again:

[IT MAY BE SO,]

This time they were followed by a glare so bright that for a moment Lois believed she must be blinded. She clapped her hands over her eyes but saw-in the last instant when she could see anything-that the light had centered on the scissors Clotho was holding up like a two-pronged lightning-rod.

There was no refuge from that light; it turned her eyelids and upraised, shielding hands to glass. The glare outlined the bones of her fingers like X-ray pencils as it streamed through her flesh. From somewhere far away she heard a woman who sounded suspiciously like Lois Chasse, screaming at the top of her mental voice: [“Turn it off! God, please turn it off before it kills me!”] And at last, when it seemed to her that she could stand no more, the light did begin to fade. When it was gone-except for a fierce blue afterimage that floated in the new darkness like a pair of phantom scissors-she slowly opened her eyes.

For a moment she continued to see nothing but that brilliant blue cross and thought she had indeed been blinded. Then, as dim as a developing photograph at first, the world began to resurface. She saw Ralph, Clotho, and Lachesis lowering their own hands and peering around with the blind bewilderment of a nest of moles turned up by the blade of a harrow.

Lachesis was looking at the scissors in his colleague’s hands as if he had never seen them before, and Lois was willing to bet he never had seen them as they were now. The blades were still shining, shedding eldritch fairy-glimmers of light in misty droplets.

Lachesis: [Ralph! That was…] She lost the rest of it, but his tone was that of a common peasant who answers a knock at the door of his hut and finds that the Pope has stopped by for a spot of prayer and a little confession.

Clotho was still staring at the blades of the scissors. Ralph was also looking, but at last he lifted his gaze to the bald doctors.

Ralph: [“… the hurt?”] Lachesis, speaking like a man emerging from a deep dream: Yes… won’t last long, but… agony will be intense… change your mind, Ralph?] Lois was suddenly afraid of those shining scissors. She wanted to cry out to Ralph, tell him to never mind his one, to just give them their one, their little boy. She wanted to tell him to do whatever it took to get them to hide those scissors again.

But no words came from either her mouth or her mind.

Ralph: [“… in the least… Just wanted to know what to expect, Clotho: [… ready?… must be…

Tell them no, Ralph! she thought at him. Tell them NO!

Ralph: [“… ready.”] Lachesis: [Understand… terms he has… and the price?] Ralph, impatient now: [“Yes, yes. Can we please just… “I Clotho, with immense gravity: [Very well, Ralph. It may be so.] Lachesis put an arm around Ralph’s shoulders; he and Clotho led him a little farther down the hill, to the place where the younger children started their downhill sled-runs in the winter. There was a small flat area there, circular in shape, about the size of a nightclub stage. When they reached it, Lachesis stopped Ralph, then turned him so he and Clotho were facing each other.

Lois suddenly wanted to shut her eyes and found she couldn’t.

She could only watch and pray that Ralph knew what he was doing.